


The Making of Scott Buttergood

by Centeris2



Category: Star Stable
Genre: Gen, trigger warnings: death via cancer, tw: child abuse veiled as discipline, tw: emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 07:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18633499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centeris2/pseuds/Centeris2
Summary: A fic on a cornerstone moment in Scott Buttergood’s childhood: the death of his mother.(May be expanded with more pivotal moments in Scott’s early life.)





	1. Mom’s Death Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started as a shower idea of “hey what if I wrote about Mrs. Buttergood’s death?” And 25+ pages later here we are.

Had the Buttergood family been different someone may have noticed something sooner. Someone would have noticed Mrs. Buttergood’s paling skin, how she was bruising easier and growing thinner. They might have noticed she tired more easily, or moved too stiffly. But all those things could be easily explained away if they were noticed at all, and Mrs. Buttergood was not the type to complain. What was the point of complaining?

So it came as a shock when she collapsed one day, coughing so violently she began to spit up blood, her two younger sons looking on in horror as she was loaded into an ambulance when it became clear it was not a short fit that would pass. 

Valdemar Buttergood, inconvenienced by the hospital nonsense, did not waste time sharing details with his children. There was nothing to say. Their mother was in the hospital, the doctors didn’t know why yet. Why waste time when there were no answers?

“Momma’s gonna die,” Bobby whispered from underneath his blanket, hiding under Scott’s bed.

“She probably just lost another baby,” Scott muttered. Father wasn’t worried, so why should they? At the sound of sniffling Scott kicked the mattress with a harsh, “boys don’t cry! Stop being a sissy!”

Two days later and Valdemar took his three sons to the hospital, something new and indicating that it wasn’t another miscarriage. Junior slunk in after Valdemar, grumpy he had to come along, while Scott looked around in fascination. He’d never been to the Jorvik City Hospital, why would Mom need to be here? Bobby tried to grab hold of his hand and Scott pulled it away, glaring at his little brother. 

They walked through hallways, Scott reading the signs as they went. The realization set in as they entered the cancer ward, Valdemar pausing at the desk to check in before they followed a nurse through more hallways.

“Mommy!” Bobby, young enough to not have patience in such situations, rushed past everyone when he saw her, Mom sitting up and smiling as her youngest child jumped up into the hospital bed to hug her.

“Hey Mom,” Junior offered, uncomfortable now that he was seeing her and realizing she would not be home soon. He hesitantly stepped forward to take her hand when she reached out for him.

Scott stood in the door, fear gripping him as he looked at his mother, looking at the wires and tubes hooked up to her, the monitors telling everyone she was still breathing. She shouldn’t need monitors to tell people that. This wasn’t right.

“Mr. Buttergood, thank you for coming, your wife’s condition-” a doctor began speaking to Valdemar but was ignored, the father turning away to give Scott a nudge.

“Go on,” he ordered his middle son, Scott walking into the room. He felt like he was going to fall at any moment, he legs weaker with each step towards his mother.

“Her condition is very serious…” the words faded away, Mrs. Buttergood smiling at Scott and beckoning him over.

“There you are!” she said with a bright smile, as though she had been waiting for him all day. While Bobby talked all about his day Scott looked around. It was white, sterile, lifeless, everything about this place was awful. Mom had been here for two days by herself, why hadn’t they come sooner? Scott hated the idea of being here by himself, she must have hated it too. 

At some point Valdemar finished whatever he was doing with the doctors and stood by the bed, watching and listening. When he grew tired of the conversation (still mostly Bobby talking), he told his sons it was time they left.

“You’ll visit again soon?” Mrs. Buttergood asked, hopeful as she looked up at her husband. He gave her a curt nod before he focused his attention on prying Bobby away. Junior bid farewell, getting out of the way as Valdemar had to physically lift Bobby off the bed before scolding his youngest son for embarrassing him and don’t you dare cry! Bobby was less than successful, sniffling but trying his hardest not to let the tears fall as he was marched out of the room.

“Bye, Mom,” Scott said, giving a lame wave goodbye as he turned away.

“Bye, Scott! I love you!” she reminded him, making him stop in his steps and glance back at her. She was fighting back tears but quickly smiled for him when he looked at her, obviously forced. 

“Mom?”

“Go, don’t keep your father waiting!” she chided.

For a moment he didn’t move, his stomach twisting and he felt cold, but he scampered out of the room after his father and brothers. 

“Father?” Scott asked as they were loaded into the car, “when are we visiting again?”

“I’m very busy,” Valdemar deflected, turning his attention to Bobby, “and Robert-”

Bobby sniffed loudly, trying to wipe away the evidence of tears.

“Don’t jump up on your mother and bore her with nonsense. Do you want to exhaust her so she can’t rest and recover?” Valdemar’s cold tone made Bobby sink into his seat and sniffle again, guilty.

“You are embarrassing, crying at your age,” Valdemar scoffed, leaving the parking lot to go home.

\---

Bobby asked to visit Mom every day, the answer always that Valdemar was too busy to drive them. After four days Valdemar finally snapped, wheeling around on his youngest and exclaiming:

“She needs rest to recover, do you want to keep her from resting? Do you want to keep her from getting better?”

At that Bobby had to fight back tears, and for asking the same question so many times got a spanking for good measure. 

Scott was smart enough to not ask, and old enough to guess that his father wouldn’t take them to visit their mother anytime soon. If he wanted to see his mother, he’d have to go himself. 

So he did.


	2. Mom's Death Part 2

It was a long walk from Butter Hill all the way to Jorvik City, especially for a kid, and Scott wasn’t sure it was such a good idea when he finally got to the hospital and was inside once more. It was still so sterile and white and lifeless and full of awful smells and noises and sick people and he hated it. 

“Are you lost?” a nurse asked as he walked through the main lobby.

“I’m here to see my mom,” Scott said, matter of fact and with a little nod for emphasis. He may have gotten a little lost along the way, but he could follow the signs in the hospital. 

“Are you alone-?” the nurse tried to ask but Scott was already going into the elevator and disappearing with a cheeky wave. 

The nurse at the desk for the cancer ward didn’t notice Scott at first, chatting with an older lady with a bag full of flowers. Scott didn’t mind at first, until he realized he couldn’t get through the door into the ward without it unlocking somehow.

“Hello?” he spoke up, making the nurse look over the counter at him.

“Oh! Are you lost?”

“I’m here to visit my mom!”

“By yourself?”

“Yes,” Scott said with the same matter of fact nod as before, so sure of himself that the nurse and older woman next to him fought back chuckles.

“Alright, patient name, please?”

“Buttergood.” 

“Okay, I’ll call a nurse to-”

“Oh I can go with him,” the older woman offered, “then you don’t have to pull anyone away from their work!”

“Would you? You’re a dear! The patients are always happier when you come through,” the nurse smiled and gave the woman the room number, unlocking the door and letting them through. 

“I’m Mrs. Holdsworth, pleasure to meet you, young man,” the woman introduced herself as they walked through the hallway.

“I’m Scott. I don’t need a babysitter,” he pouted, making a point of walking faster than her. He remembered where to go. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mrs. Holdsworth chuckled, following him into the room with Mrs. Buttergood.

“Scott!” she sat up and brightened immediately, but Scott was frozen in the doorway. It hadn’t even been a full week, but she looked terrible. Scott was sure the hospital had sucked the life from her, she was grey and had lost weight, it was obvious in her face. 

“Mrs. Buttergood, I presume?” Mrs. Holdsworth stepped in as Scott stood, stiff from fear and unease.

“Yes…?” she looked at the stranger, glancing at her son and at the space behind him, wondering where her other children were. 

“You have a lovely son, coming to the hospital all by himself to visit!” Mrs. Holdsworth praised, offering her hand and a, “Mrs. Holdsworth, by the way!”

“All by yourself!?” Mrs. Buttergood shook the offered hand but was staring at her son in shock. He nodded.

“How?”

“Walked,” Scott mumbled, looking down at his feet and kicking the floor. He didn't want to be here anymore. He didn’t want to see his mom like this. They had left her alone to rest, why wasn’t she getting better?

“You… walked…” she managed, stunned, before she joked, “and you can’t walk a bit more?”

That made him approach, and she pulled him into a hug.

“Oh I’ve missed you,” she sighed. Mrs. Holdsworth stepped away, taking some flowers out of her bag and placing them on a nearby table, busying herself with the arrangement. 

“I missed you too, when are you coming home?” Scott asked. It was terrible without her home. Father was too busy most of the time, and when he wasn’t…

“It’ll be a while,” she admitted, “but I feel a lot better seeing you! You shouldn’t have walked all that way though! It’s dangerous! And you have to walk back!” she chided, worried.

“Father was too busy…”

“He’s a busy man,” she sighed before she waved away the thought. “Enough of your father, what about you? How have you been? Anything happen at school these past few days?”

Scott ended up sitting on the bed, his mother encouraging him to talk, holding his hand and coming to life as he told her about the newest things he had learned. Only his stomach interrupted them. 

“I can take you down to the cafeteria, get you something to eat,” Mrs. Holdsworth offered, and at Mrs. Buttergood’s insistence Scott followed her downstairs.

“Who are you here to visit?” Scott asked in the elevator.

“Everyone! I come to the hospital now and then to put out flower arrangements,” she explained, nodding to her bag that still had flowers in it.

“Why?” he asked as she led him to the cafeteria.

“A bit of color does wonders for healing! And it helps remind those who don’t get many, or any, visitors that someone is still thinking of them.”

“But… why?” his confusion made her look at him, evaluating him. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, not liking how she was looking into him.

“Because I enjoy being kind,” she said with a smile after a long moment, “now, what would you like to eat?”

\---

“Mom, look! They had so much food!” Scott exclaimed, excited that they were allowed to take the sandwiches they had purchased back to his mother’s room. 

“Oh, shoot,” Mrs. Holdsworth muttered, “Scott, could you go run down to the vending machine down the hall and get me a water? I forgot to buy myself a drink.” She offered him some money and he did as asked after a look from his mother.

“Thank you for getting him food, I can-” Mrs. Buttergood began but the offer was waved away.

“Happy to help!” Mrs. Holdsworth chirped before fixing a stern gaze on Mrs. Buttergood, studying the woman, peering inside of her.

“Mrs… Holdsworth?” she shifted uncomfortably under the look.

“Buttergoods have some bad habits,” Mrs. Holdsworth began, pausing as her eyes narrowed, “such as dealing with things they shouldn’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Magic, dear. I can see it inside you.”

“I’m not magic,” Mrs. Buttergood laughed weakly, glancing away.

“I didn’t say you were. I said it was inside you. As tumors, actually, seems a magic experiment went wrong,” Mrs. Holdsworth guessed, Mrs. Buttergood staring at her in bewilderment.

“I haven’t tried any sort of magic!” she insisted, and after a moment Mrs. Holdsworth nodded, believing her.

“Forgive me, I’ve seen the careless use of magic orphan children before. I feared this was a similar case. He’s got a good heart, under it all,” Mrs. Holdsworth said, changing the subject, Mrs. Buttergood unable to say more as Scott came into the room.

“The vending machine was broken!” he exclaimed but held a water bottle triumphantly over his head as he retold the daring tale of how he had to find another vending machine to get water. After the dramatic retelling he dug into his food, Mrs. Buttergood taking the opportunity to ask a question.

“Mrs. Holdsworth, can you find someone to get Scott home? It’s such a long way to Epona from here, I wouldn’t want him to walk all the way back there at night-”

“I can drive! I’m in Moorland, so Epona isn’t too much farther for me,” Mrs. Holdsworth offered.

“It’s not that bad…” Scott muttered, though he was relieved to not have to walk that far again today.

“I know honey, but there are wild animals in the mountains. And would you? Thank you!” Mrs. Buttergood sighed in relief.

“And next time you want to visit your mother,” Mrs. Holdsworth turned to Scott, “walk to Moorland instead. I’m in the little cottage away from the stables, I’ll drive you.”

“Oh you don’t have to-” Mrs. Buttergood insisted.

“Pssh! It’s no trouble! And having your family visiting will help you heal!” Mrs. Holdsworth’s words made Scott think. Father said visiting Mom would tire her out, but she looked so much better compared to a few hours ago. And Mrs. Holdsworth said visiting helped people… they couldn’t both be right. What if he was making Mom worse? But if Mrs. Holdsworth was right, then visiting would help Mom get better. Could he risk her not getting better?

“Mom?” he said suddenly, interrupting a conversation he hadn’t even noticed between the two women, “what’s wrong with you?”

Mrs. Buttergood paled and glanced away, afraid and sad. She didn’t want to tell her son what was wrong, but she didn’t want to lie. 

“I’m sick, but I’m going to get better,” she promised, reaching for him and squeezing his arm. 

“How?”

“The doctors are going to give me medicine and operate to remove some bad things in me…”

“Cancer tumors?” the straight way he asked made her wince but she nodded.

“Yes,” she let the answer hang before she sighed, closed her eyes, and braced herself, “it’s stage four breast cancer, there are cancerous tumors around my body. But people get cancer all the time and survive! Don’t you worry about it!”

“But-”

“Hey!” she cut him off, smiling, “let me worry about the cancer, you worry about your math test coming up, okay? Math tests are much more dangerous than- oh!” Scott surprised himself by hugging his mom, but he knew stage four was the worst kind, and he knew breast cancer was a big deal. 

“Oh honey, come here,” she pulled him onto the bed so he was next to her, murmuring, “you’re never too old to cuddle with your mom.”

Scott was proud that he was able to not cry at least, and no one would ever need to know… But after a few minutes he had to get off the bed because his mother’s dinner arrived.

“You should head home soon,” Mrs. Buttergood suggested, Scott pouting at the suggestion.

“Oh his father is on his way!” the attending nurse announced, “he was called, to make sure he knew he was here. Wouldn’t want your husband to worry!”

“Oh, thank you!” Mrs. Buttergood smiled at the nurse as they left before looking at Scott, “guess you’re here until your father arrives. Mrs. Holdsworth, you don’t need to stay…”

“I do have more flowers to deliver,” Mrs. Holdsworth admitted, standing to take her leave, “just remember, next time you want to visit come get a ride from me!”

“Okay! Bye!” Scott waved as she left, anxious knowing his father was on his way. 

Scott was happy to have more time with his mom, but visiting hours came to a close. He liked the smile on his mom’s face when he hugged her and said he loved her, she looked like she was about to burst with happiness.

He’d have to tell her that next time to make her happy. 

Minutes ticked by into hours, the sun setting as Scott waited in the lobby before Valdemar finally arrived. The look on his father’s face made it clear that Scott was in trouble.

“When we get home, get the paddle,” was the only thing Valdemar said in the car, Scott swallowing hard. 

“Do you know what you did to deserve this?” Valdemar asked when he stood in the master bedroom, watching as Scott shuffled over with the paddle in hand. 

“I just went to visit Mom…”

“You disappeared without a trace, leaving without telling anyone. That is unacceptable. Do you know why?” Valdemar asked, hand out.

“Because something might have happened to me…?” Scott guessed as he handed the paddle to his father.

“Correct. We would have no idea if you were lost, hurt, in danger, or even dead. Now as for visiting your mother, she needs to rest. She can’t do that if she is busy entertaining you. You don’t want to be the reason she doesn’t recover, do you?”

“No…”

Valdemar cleared his throat, glaring down at his son.

“No, sir,” Scott amended, looking down at his feet.

“Better. Are you going to run off again?”

“No, sir,” Scott promised.

“Good. Now, turn,” Valdemar ordered, Scott facing away and bracing himself. He hated being paddled, but at least it wasn’t the belt. 

Scott always thought that the first was the worst, that first smack of wood against his butt and the sound making him jump and he had to grit his teeth not to whimper and cry. Father hated crying. It was best to stand there and take it, as silent and still as possible. It’d be over faster. 

“Are you going to do that again?” the question indicated the paddling was done, and Scott shook his head.

“No, sir,” he let out the breath in a rush, realizing he had been holding it in.

“You better not be crying,” Valdemar warned, grabbing Scott’s shoulder and spinning him around, inspecting his face. He scowled at the tears he saw, spitting out a, “pathetic, men don’t cry!” while smacking the offending wet cheek. 

“Put this away and go to your room,” Valdemar instructed, thrusting the paddle to Scott.

He scurried out of the room, putting the paddle back in its very visible position in the den before he ran up to his room as best as he could. No sooner had he closed the door to his room than an angry little brother appeared, flying at his face and snarling.

“I hate you!” Bobby hissed, punching and kicking at Scott as best as he could. Scott quickly shoved him off to the floor, four years on his brother making it easy to push Bobby around when Scott felt like it.

“Go away!” Scott growled, not wanting a little brother in his room. But Bobby flew at him again, pounding small fists against Scott’s shoulders.

“It’s your fault!”

“What is?” Scott demanded, shoving Bobby to the floor again.

“Dad said I was lying but I wasn’t! I didn’t know where you were!” Bobby pouted, crossing his arms and glaring.

“So?” Scott groaned, the only relief that Bobby wasn’t attacking him again.

“I got paddled for lying to Dad!” Bobby exclaimed, “it wasn’t my fault! I didn’t know where you were!” At that Bobby rubbed his face, trying to rub away the tears before they could appear.

“Oh…” Scott stopped, wincing at that, “Father paddled me too.”

“For running away?”

“I didn’t run away! I went to see Mom.”

“But she’s in Jorvik City!” Bobby’s eyes lit up, distracted now.

“Yeah I walked there,” Scott said, bragging a bit as his little brother looked up at him with awe. Telling Bobby about his visit to Mom emboldened Scott, making him think maybe he should go again. Decides, Mom was so happy to see him, and she was so happy when he said he loved her and hugged her… She definitely looked best when she was smiling at him, all the other times she looked like the hospital was draining her. 

Maybe, if he went with Mrs. Holdsworth, he could be back before anyone noticed he was missing… and if he left a note then it wouldn’t really be running off then, would it?


	3. Mom's Death Part 3

Scott left a note saying he was going to visit Mom so he wasn’t really sneaking out. Sure he made sure to leave when no one was around, and went out a way no one would hear, and took care not to step on any boards that would creak, but that didn’t mean he was sneaking out.

Besides, Mrs. Holdsworth said visiting helped people heal, so really he was helping Mom; and Father had no intention of taking them to visit her today. It’d been over a week since Scott had seen her, and none of them had visited her since. Father had been too busy. He also hadn’t told them how she was doing, or any details for that matter. 

If it was him at the hospital, he would hate to be there all alone for that long. 

He followed the signs to Moorland, finding the stables easily enough. They were quite large, and hard to miss. He hoped no one would bother him as he wandered around the outskirts, looking for Mrs. Holdsworth’s cottage. He guessed it was the one with flowers all around it, so being a brave little Buttergood he marched right up to the door and knocked.

“Mmm-oh!” Mrs. Holdsworth opened the door, spotting him, “Scott! Hello!” she said with a warm smile.

“I want to go see Mom,” he informed her, Mrs. Holdsworth laughing and nodding.

“Alright, well, I need to finish something up but I can take you in a moment. Won’t you come in?” she offered, opening the door and ushering him inside. The house was warm and bright, much like the older woman, and smelled like something was baking.

“I have a pie that will be done soon, and I need to finish some paperwork for Thomas and run it over to him,” she informed him as he wandered ahead, following his nose into the kitchen. The table held the papers she was working on, but he was more focused on the goodies, eyeing the cookies that were cooling on the counter. 

“You may have some,” she gave him permission as she sat back down at the table, grinning as he picked up two, stuffing one of the cookies into his mouth immediately. He walked around her kitchen, studying everything to pass time. It was a clean area, organized, full of neat little jars and utensils. He liked being here, it was a nice kitchen. The chocolate chip cookie he was eating helped. He looked in the oven, trying to guess what the pie was but aside from some sort of fruit could not tell. It was pretty though, Mrs. Holdsworth had done a decorative crust on top, a criss cross weave with hearts cut in it. Scott wondered if it would taste as good as the cookies.

Boring quickly of the kitchen utensils, and finishing the first cookie, he bit into the second and looked at the table. He saw a lot of tables and numbers on the papers, and was not interested to read further, so he looked at the walls. There were drying plants and fresh flowers and paintings and weird wind chimes made of shiny rocks. A portrait of an old lady in a desert was interesting though, it looked old, and Scott found himself staring at it for longer than a few brief seconds. He wondered who and where she was. There were cacti behind her, and she was dressed up like a cowboy. Weird.

“Alright,” Mrs. Holdsworth said to get Scott’s attention as she gathered the papers, “I need to run this over to Thomas, I’ll only be a moment!”

And with that she left with the papers tucked under her arm.

Scott flapped his arms and walked out of the kitchen, exploring more as he didn’t know what to do with himself. He found himself in what he guessed was the parlor, or maybe she called it the sitting room. It was a room with chairs and a desk and a fireplace and Scott was looking at the things stacked about: little chests and bottles and bags all in neat piles. There was certainly a lot of stuff, but Scott couldn’t say it looked cluttered, or even messy, and his eyes spotted a box up on a shelf. There were many boxes in the room, and many things on shelves, but that particular box stood out because it looked like one he had seen at home: a dark wooden box with teeth forming a lock. Scott had gotten the belt for snooping through his father’s things, which made the box all the more tempting.

Before he considered that it was rude, he had moved a chair so he could climb up and grab the box. It was just barely out of reach with him stretching, fingers scratching at the teeth to try to get a hold. He hopped, fingers gripping the box long enough to pull it forward, and for a moment Scott felt a rush of triumph.

Until the box teetered off the shelf and he failed to grab it, the box bursting open and teeth scattering across the floor.

Panic and realization that Scott had just snooped, in a near stranger’s stuff no less, kicked in and he jumped off the chair. Mrs. Holdsworth would be back at any moment! If she saw she’d belt him for snooping too! He scrambled down as his mind raced, hands grasping at teeth.

Pain shot through him, his fingers burning, the shock and hurt making him cry out and jerk back. He stared at the tooth he had touched, terrified and confused.

What if she use didn’t use a belt? Maybe Mrs. Holdsworth would use a switch, or a spoon, or a cane… he didn’t know what she’d use but it’d hurt! He had to clean this up! He bit his lip and grabbed the tooth, dropping it again and whimpering at the pain. Touching it a second time had made it worse, and it wasn’t going away, as he looked at his fingers he saw them turning red as if they were actually blistering from a burn. 

What if she told Father? He’d belt Scott so hard he’d have trouble walking… he’d done it before to Scott. He’d seen Father belt Junior so hard it broke Junior’s ribs. 

Fear helped force his hand to hold the tooth as it burned, stabbing needles of fire racing through his hand and up his arm even after he had dropped the first tooth in the box. Scott hated the tears running down his face, hated how he was crying, hated how he couldn’t force his hand to grab the second tooth. Why wouldn’t his hand just close? Just close! Who cares about some pain, just grab it!

What if Mrs. Holdsworth didn’t take him to see Mom? 

Scott swallowed hard, pulling back his shaking hand, red and blistering where it had made contact with the tooth. He had to get the teeth back in the box and the box back on the shelf before she got back! He put the back of his injured hand in his mouth and bit down, focusing on his teeth on his skin, focusing on biting down, trying to use that to block out the pain as he tried again to clean up the teeth with his other hand. 

That’s how Mrs. Holdsworth found him, bent over the box trying to force his body to pick up teeth, staring at her in terror at being discovered.

“Oh honey!” Mrs. Holdsworth exclaimed, voice so sweet and caring it caught Scott off guard, but before he could cover his face to hide his crying she had him by the wrists, instructing, “do not touch anything with your hands! Nothing! Come with me!” She wrapped her apron around his hands, escorting him to the kitchen. She undid her apron and left it around his hands, stopping him before he could put his hands in water, and dug in cupboards.

“What all did you touch?” she asked as she poured powder and petals into a bowl, and then a jar of something, and then something from a bottle, Scott losing track of the things she was throwing together.

“I just… I’m sorry… I didn’t-” he apologized, sniffling and fighting back sobs and he really wanted to see his mom.

“I know sweetie, hush now, was it just the box and the teeth?”

“Uh-huh,” he managed, chest starting to heave. It hurt so much, the burning was just getting worse and going up his arms and into his shoulders. 

“And you only touched it with your hands? Did your hands touch anything else, your face, your clothes?” 

“Nuh-huh,” he couldn’t see anymore, his eyes flooding with tears.

“That’s good, here, put your hands in this,” she said, removing the apron and putting the bowl on the table, guiding his hands into it. The relief was immediate in the cool fluid, the fire withdrawing from his shoulders, down his arms, back to his hands, and then fading away from his fingers. A wet washcloth on his forehead felt good too, Mrs. Holdsworth clicking her tongue and muttering to herself as she wiped away his sweat and cleaned the blood from his lips and chin.

“There, feeling better?” she asked as she wiped his cheeks free of tears and he nodded, sniffling.

“Okay, sit down for a bit, keep your hands in the bowl, I need to clean up in the other room,” Mrs. Holdsworth instructed. This time, Scott stayed put, dreading what was coming next. When she came back, she was going to have a belt, or a switch, or a paddle, or something. He just knew it. 

“I am sorry, dear, I shouldn’t have left you alone,” she apologized when she came back a few minutes later, holding bandages. “It is impressive you found one of the most dangerous things I own though, but please ask what something is instead of opening it next time.” 

“What were those teeth?” he managed, curious and bewildered she wasn’t angry. An apology was the last thing he expected.

“Vampire teeth,” she said with a smirk, unrolling the bandages a bit before she reached into the bowl and pulled out one of his hands. He whimpered as soon as the hand left the bowl, the fire returning. It wasn’t nearly as bad, and it didn’t spread, but the skin that had touched the teeth had angry looking welts and hurt worse than they looked. 

“You’ll need to be careful for a few days,” she warned as she bandaged his hand, “your hands will hurt and be tender for a while.” With the first hand bandaged she pulled the next out, looking at the bite and shaking her head.

“I am sorry,” she apologized again, applying antiseptic cream to the bite before she bandaged the hand. “You shouldn’t have tried to pick up the teeth, especially after that first touch.”

“I didn’t want you to find out…” he admitted sheepishly before he got up the nerve to ask, “vampire teeth?”

“I’d rather you not hurt yourself so much. Especially pushing yourself to pick up the teeth like that…” Mrs. Holdsworth winced and shook her head. It took incredible determination to handle something so dangerous without protection, the human body generally didn’t like doing things that caused it that much pain. “And yes, vampire teeth. From vampires.”

The look of wonder in his eyes made her smile, as it dawned on him that she wasn’t joking.

“Are you a vampire?” he asked, making her laugh.

“Heavens no,” she didn’t elaborate, the timer for her pie conveniently distracting her.

“Are you a vampire hunter?” he guessed, watching her pull the pie out of the oven and put it on a cooling rack once both his hands were bandaged.

“Not that either! You don’t need to kill vampires to get their teeth, especially when they are losing a set,” Mrs. Holdsworth explained as though it were perfectly natural, her focus on her pie, judging it to see if it had any imperfections before she left it alone.

“You’re magic!” Scott whispered, Mrs. Holdsworth looking at him and winking.

“A bit,” she admitted, putting a finger to her lips, “but don’t tell anyone!”

“Can you heal my mom?” That question made the older woman’s smile fade.

“Your mother is very sick, and my magic is not very strong. I am doing what I can for her,” was the best she could offer him and he nodded solemnly. “But, I do know that patients do better when they have visitors! Your mother will be thrilled to see you!”

With that, Mrs. Holdsworth escorted Scott to the hospital. This time he didn’t stand in the door in terror, he rushed in to hug his mother when he saw her, making her laugh. Mrs. Holdsworth apologized for and explained away the bandages on Scott’s hands, blaming herself for not properly supervising him in the kitchen with a fresh from the oven pie. 

Scott was surprised when hours had passed by, so caught up with talking to his mom that he hadn’t even noticed. Had he ever talked to his mother so much? He couldn’t remember, but she was so happy to just sit and talk to him and be there and he wondered why he hadn’t done it more when she was home. When Mom came home, he was going to be sure to spend more time talking to her, it made her so happy, and he loved how she smiled and how the light came back to her eyes. 

She had to get better. He would keep visiting her, he’d walk to the hospital every day if he had to, until she got better. Even though she didn’t say it, he could tell she hated a week without her family, she was thinner than before, her black hair duller, and her skin grayer. And when he came back after getting food, before she realized he was back, her eyes had looked so lifeless. 

He hated that look.

Mrs. Holdsworth got Scott to leave the room for a run to the vending machine again, buying a bit of time to talk to Mrs. Buttergood.

“Here, dear,” Mrs. Holdsworth slipped a bottle from her bag to Mrs. Buttergood, the woman quickly drinking the contents, “although I can only do so much…”

“But if it is magic like you think…” Mrs. Buttergood looked away, handing the bottle back, “I don’t feel any better…”

“What happened to you is strong magic,” Mrs. Holdsworth reminded her, putting the bottle away, “and very damaging, I…” she winced and looked at the woman confined to a bed.

“I don’t want to leave them, I love-” Mrs. Buttergood sniffled, fighting back tears, “I love my family!”

“I know, keep fighting,” Mrs. Holdsworth took her hand and squeezed, not saying more as Scott returned. 

“Mom?” he noticed her tears, and she smiled at him.

“I’m just sad you have to leave soon, visiting hours are almost over!”

She let herself sob after Scott said he loved her and went home.

\---

Mrs. Holdsworth dropped Scott off in Crescent Moon Village at his insistence, and he snuck back into the house without anyone noticing.

Well, except for the fact that his father was in the entryway, the belt slung over his shoulder. Scott hated that belt. It wasn’t for wearing, though sometimes Father would use whatever belt he happened to be wearing, but The Belt was not one that was worn. It was a thick leather band, as a proper belt should be, with a thick metal buckle. It was the buckle that was the worst part, and the part that seemed to glint menacingly at Scott now as he stood frozen.

Leaving a note did not count as ‘not running off,’ and Scott was reminded once more that visiting his mother was tiring her out, how was she supposed to recover if he exhausted her? Scott didn’t have a good answer, he didn’t have any answer, so he stood there in silence until his father ordered him to remove his shirt and turn around. For the second time that day Scott cried from pain, welts and bruises and broken skin covering his back and sides. For the first time that day Scott was punished for crying.

“What happened to your hands?” Valdemar asked when the belting was done, noticing the bandages for the first time after smacking Scott for crying from the pain.

“Burned my hands, sir,” Scott muttered, desperately wanting to be alone. To his surprise his father took him by the wrist, guiding him into the kitchen. Scott was a bit confused by that, wondering why the kitchen of all places.

“Let me see,” Valdemar murmured, pulling the bandages off to inspect the burns himself. He looked at the bright red blisters on Scott’s palms and fingers, thinking for a moment before he looked in a drawer and pulled out a ruler. Scott gulped, pulling his hands back and stepping away.

“Here, boy,” Valdemar ordered, snapping his finger, “seems you’re stupid enough to need some sense smacked into you.”

Scott swallowed hard, but stepped up to his father, offering up his palms. He knew what was coming. 

The smacks from the ruler brought the fire back to his hands, the cry it tore from Scott before he could stop himself earning him additional smacks until he was silent and his father was satisfied.

“Don’t burn yourself again,” Valdemar ordered before he scoffed, putting the ruler away. “Crying? Pitiful. Buttergoods aren’t sissies.”

And with that Valdemar left Scott, staring at his hands and hating himself for crying. 

Junior intercepted Scott before he reached his room, snarling and pinning his younger brother against the wall.

“You little brat! Why’d you run off like that?” Junior hissed, “Father blamed me because I ‘didn’t keep an eye’ on you! And stop crying!”

“I just wanted to see Mom,” Scott mumbled, trying to not cry more, the pain in his back reignited from being thrown against the wall. 

“We all want to see Mom! You’re just selfish and got Bobby and I paddled! Is that what you wanted?” Junior demanded, Scott shaking his head.

“Then stop sneaking off!” Junior growled and gave Scott a final shake for good measure before dropping him and walking away stiffly, a sure sign of paddling.

Scott was glad Bobby wasn’t in his room this time, he didn’t think he could face his little brother knowing he had gotten Bobby paddled again. Mom needed him, she needed visits to help her get better, but he couldn’t get his brothers punished again… But Mom was looking so much worse today, a week without them had been awful for her. Scott would take paddling, even belting, again if it meant Mom would get better. Junior and Bobby must feel the same… right?


	4. Mom's Death Part 4

Over a week went by, Scott stuck in indecision. He had taken up the habit of asking his father when they’d see his mother, not caring about the spankings that resulted from pestering his father. He didn’t want to get his brothers in trouble, which meant he needed his father’s permission to go. Asking permission to visit without his father driving him was also rejected, leaving Scott uncertain. 

He knew if he wanted to see his mother he would have to go to her, without his father’s permission. He knew if he did that, he and his brothers would all be punished. 

But if no one knew he was missing, if he got back before anyone noticed, then it would be fine.

Mrs. Holdsworth was happy to drive him to the hospital again, and Scott was sure he had made the right decision to visit when he saw how withered his mother had become. He worried she’d turn into a skeleton soon, why wasn’t she getting better? Her hug was so weak this time, Scott worried he’d squeeze the life out of her now. 

“I’ve missed you so much, Scott!” she told him, touching his face and holding his hand. Scott felt like she was trying to anchor him to her, keep him there, afraid to let him go.

“I missed you too, Mom,” he mumbled, not knowing what else to say as a wave of nausea hit him. She was holding him as tightly as she could, yet she was barely there.

“How are your brothers? It’s been so long since I’ve seen them…” her voice hitched and her smile faltered, her isolation getting to her as she could no longer hide it from her child. She knew she needed to be strong for her son, she didn’t want him to worry.

“They’re fine,” Scott shifted uncomfortably, now guilty as he realized he didn’t even think to ask Junior or Bobby to come to the hospital with him. Both of them wanted to see Mom, but would either of them come without Father’s permission? When Scott got home he would ask, he would tell them Mom wanted to see them, despite what Father said. 

“Are they… do- are they okay without me? Do they miss me at all?” some color came back to his mother’s face, shame forcing blood into her cheeks. She couldn’t look at Scott when she asked, fearing it was too much to ask. It was expecting too much.

“Of course! They want you to rest and get better! Father-” now Scott’s cheeks reddened and he had to look away, “Father says you need rest, and visiting you exhausts you so you can’t recover.”

Scott didn’t see the look of hurt and hate on his mother’s face, the expression buried by the time he managed to look back up at her and offer her, “I’m sorry for tir-”

“No! Honey no!” she shushed him, hugging him and shaking her head, “you don’t tire me out at all! I wish you could all come visit me every day!”

That was a cold kick in the gut, guilt gripping Scott. He should have visited more, punishments be damned. He buried his face into her hair, trying not to cry as he hugged her tight. She shushed him, hugging him and stroking his hair and telling him it was alright, doing so until he finally let go of her.

He told her what Junior and Bobby had been up to the past few weeks, as much as he knew, anything to make her smile. He told her how his math test had gone (poorly, but she reassured him he was a smart boy, worry makes it hard to study, he’ll do better next time). He told her Junior was getting to spend more time with Father, though he didn’t know what they were doing (boring grown up stuff no doubt was his mother’s guess). He told her Bobby found an injured bird and was currently keeping it in a box trying to help it (she smiled at that, happy about how sweet her youngest son was, but Scott could you please make sure that bird gets to a vet?). 

An all too familiar throat-clearing cut off Scott and made the room go silent. Scott looked over his shoulder at his father, standing in the doorway, displeased.

“Come here, boy.”

Scott scrambled off the bed, out of his mother’s arms, but didn’t leave her side, not wanting to leave.

“Valdemar-”

“Running off is inexcusable, and you’ve made me leave work to come get you,” he said coldly, glaring at Scott.

“I had a way back,” Scott pouted, “I just wanted to see Mom!”

“Valdemar, dear-”

“Backtalk?” Valdemar’s eyes narrowed, insulted by the disrespect. Scott braced himself, balling his hands into tight fists as he looked up at his father. His very tall, broad, imposing father.

“Visiting is good for patients! It helps them heal!” Scott declared.

“Heal? Stupid boy, stage four breast cancer is terminal.” 

“There is a chance-” she tried to say, tried to give some hope to her son, only for her husband to cut her off once more.

“Why do you think they haven’t done any operations or started any treatments?” he finally acknowledged his wife, cold glare turned on her now, making her shrink away into her bed.

“I thought… they said… you said a specialist…”

“Why waste the resources on you? Foolish girl,” he scoffed, done with the conversation and entering the room. Scott was broken out of his thoughts, torn from his own whirling panic, when his father grabbed him by the arm and began to drag him out.

“No!” mother and son shouted at the same time, reaching for each other. She tried to get out of the bed, tried to follow, tried to escape the tubes, but her body failed her.

“Valdemar, please!” she begged, cried, wailed, all while Scott wriggled and kicked and punched and screamed, fighting against his father as Valdemar’s iron grip tore him away.

“I love you!” she screamed, her voice following them into the hallway, Scott thrashing and crying until Valdemar had him in the car.

“Do you enjoy killing her faster?” Valdemar asked calmly when they were alone in the car.

“What?” Scott mumbled, rubbing tears from his face.

“That little scene, that fit of hers, that was your fault. Do you really think that didn’t hurt her?” Valdemar let it sink in, Scott going numb, before he continued, “when we get home, bring me my belt.”

\---

Scott’s breathing was shallow, deep breaths hurt. He didn’t know what to do, being on his back hurt, but so did being on his sides or his stomach. Sitting was out of the question, but he couldn’t sleep standing up. The belting had been awful, so bad Scott had trouble walking after, and his father had dragged him by the hair to his room, locking him in. 

Mom was dying, and Scott was making it worse. Maybe if he hadn’t visited her so much she would be doing better? He didn’t know what to think, so he focused on trying not to cry. Crying was for babies and pansies, not for Buttergoods. 

He finally managed to sleep on his stomach, exhaustion helping dull the pain enough for nightmares to set in.

When he awoke the next morning Bobby was bouncing on his bed, in a very good mood.

“We’re going to see Mom!” Bobby cried in delight, “Get up! Get up! Get up!”

“Don’t touch me!” Scott snarled as Bobby flopped on him, his little brother’s bodyweight going right on his bruised and sore back.

“Get up!” Bobby yelled again, ignoring Scott’s growls.

“That hurts!”

“It’s your own fault!” Bobby declared but stopped, hoping off the bed.

“Did you get punished too?” Scott asked, slowly easing out of bed. Everything hurt so much.

“No…” Bobby said slowly, suddenly looking very guilty before he scampered out of the room, Scott glaring after his brother. Had Bobby told on him? It would have gotten Bobby out of a paddling.

But that didn’t matter, they were going to see Mom! She’d be so happy to see them all! That helped Scott push through the pain and rush him downstairs.

“You’re staying home,” Valdemar said with a glance at Scott.

“What? Why?!” Scott demanded, heartbroken.

“You’ve been hogging your mother, don’t you think your brothers deserve a chance to spend time with her?” Valdemar asked, Junior and Bobby looking at Scott. Junior’s look was nasty, remembering all the punishments he had received due to Scott, while Bobby looked hurt as if Scott had betrayed him somehow, holding out on him with secret Mom visits. 

“I-” Scott didn’t know what to say, so Valdemar continued.

“Besides, you are in no condition to go anywhere, you’d no doubt cry again and cause an embarrassing scene,” Valdemar sneered, Junior snickering and Bobby looking confused, missing the joke.

“But-” Scott tried to come up with something, but Bobby and Junior were already out the door, Valdemar casting him one last withering gaze.

“After your behavior, you don’t deserve to go anywhere,” Valdemar said, closing and locking the door behind him, leaving Scott alone in the mansion.

Part of Scott wanted to walk to Mrs. Holdsworth’s, or even all the way to the hospital, and visit Mom anyway. But his body wouldn’t let him, and he hated himself for it. Years later, he would realize his father purposefully belted him so extensively that he wouldn’t be able to make the journey, as Valdemar never before and never again targeted the legs. But in the moment all Scott cared about was how his back to his legs were black and blue, how despite how much he tried, his legs refused to carry him farther than a few meters at a time. 

When his brothers came home he managed to push his jealousy away, after all, Mom had wanted to see them. According to them, she was very happy to see them all. According to his father, she hadn’t bothered to ask about Scott at all. 

The next evening Valdemar summoned his sons with news: their mother had passed away.


	5. Mom's Death Part 5 (Final)

After the funeral Scott found himself alone with his father, rage and hate and sorrow twisting in his gut.

“I wanted you to know, I hold you responsible for her death,” Valdemar informed Scott, dumbfounding the boy.

“You said it was terminal!” Scott protested, hurt.

“The doctors were quite hopeful at first, for a stage four breast cancer case. Given your mother’s age and background she had a decent chance at surviving for another five years at least, if not beating cancer completely. I was paying for the best specialists to come, to give her the best chance at beating cancer. And then you had to visit her,” Valdemar paused, eyes narrowing, “and her condition rapidly declined. I warned you that visiting her would tire her, so you went and spent hours with her.” He drew out ‘hours’ to emphasize the time, making Scott squirm and look down.

“She was happy to see me though…”

“Because she was a foolish woman who didn’t know better! Women always let their sentimentality overrule logic!” Valdemar scoffed, “she was more concerned with feelings than facts, and it killed her! She spent so much energy on you that she wasted away, and her chances of survival vanished.”

“Then why didn’t she come home?”

“So you could have killed her faster? Idiot, how many times do I have to say you exhausted her, making her worse!” Valdemar snarled, Scott wincing. 

“I suppose it is fitting, an idiot boy from an idiot mother,” he muttered, tone shifting to cruel amusement only he found amusing, “ironic her one redeeming quality is what killed her.”

“Huh?” Scott glanced up at that, too young to understand the crude joke. Valdemar snorted, entertained by his joke, and waved Scott away.

“Go now, tell your brothers you’re the reason she’s dead,” Valdemar dismissed, Scott retreating, tears threatening to slip out. Valdemar smirked, stretching and flexing, enjoying how alive he felt.


End file.
